I wanted to love this collection. It was Martin Grant, for goodness’ sake, and I should; it’s a sweet, very French (from an American perspective, of course). This season was a bit more country-chic and quaint than I’m accustomed to. Even so, it’s difficult to deny the craftsmanship behind the construction. Simplicity is king, and classics are its reigning queen. Any woman could wear the above three – she speaks. Not the clothing.

I adore Michael Kors. Always have, always will. He is the ultimate, consumer-friendly luxury label that satiates the aspirational shopper, which is deserving of applause for making a fashion brand a household name! Few brands can bridge the gap between the rather nepotistic fashion world and the non-members. Here’s to attainability and (mild) affordability.

However, the past few collections have had left me at a loss for words. While I do appreciate the consistency Kors takes in designing a truly thorough and cohesive collection, it becomes so literal. After 65+ pieces of similar shapes and fabrics, it becomes tiring to the eyes. They’re fantastic on their own. Truly. Repetition, unfortunately, renders boredom.

But thank goodness for the gowns; they never disappoint. He does American sportswear and glamour best, Michael Kors. He knows it, and you see it in the execution. (Also – who else but MK & D Squared could make plaid so lust worthy? Cabin fever, here, in the best way possible.)

Two words: femme fatale. Here she is, clad in a uniform of red or black, hair down but slicked just enough to keep it out of her face so there’s no distraction from carnal red lips and well-sculpted cheekbones. All eyes on this lady.

So classic.

I miss the hourglass silhouettes that once dominated the catwalks. Experimentation with shape and construction are innovative, yes, but there are some forms that remain forever timeless: they always work. It seems as if just pretty and sensuous are no longer enough for editors and reviewers: the more alien, the better. Erase the woman, she is the canvas, and let the artist explore. (I’ve read before that designers prefer thinner models for that reason; they’re but living hangers, and “beautiful, curvier” women – like of the 90’s – are a distraction to their work.)

Forget the name attached to the collection; disregard the technicalities and specifics. Look at it through unbiased eyes and you will see that it was both a well designed and well executed show that deserves recognition.

There are two types of designers: the artist – mostly self-absorbed or simply couture – and the designer. The latter creates for the constituents who are the women, the ultimate consumers, in mind. It’s selfless in a sense, since he/she compromises a bit of individual creativity for wearability and, to some extent, marketability.

This is what Rachel Zoe brings to Fashion Week. The prestige of fashionability at the ease of wearability, where individual pieces can integrate seamlessly into an existing wardrobe, and an entire head-to-toe look could be worn straight from catwalk to sidewalk, effortlessly. It’s a cohesive and thorough collection. Pieces for every occasion, entire ensembles for any event. I’m hardly the literal 70s, urban bohemian, but there’s a certain flexibility that allows the outfits to be worn on any woman, regardless of personal style, and not look out of place.

Pantsuits, chunky sweaters, leather basics. Drool.

. . .

x

P.S. I clearly have a penchant for pantsuits, a current obsession to be rendered into reality for the next fall/winter season. I love a good balance between masculinity and femininity as some days (and moods) require exactly that.

Gucci

My fashion identity, apparently (there’s no dispute there, either!). While this collection isn’t my favorite of Frida’s, the jewel tones are making me swoon. How decadent! How lush! The presentation, as per usual, was exquisite. I love a good color gradation, it’s easy on the eyes.

I adore the idea of a patent red trench – so wrong, it’s right, a classic made salacious. Mesh maxi skirts that hint at vulgarity? So brilliant, it’s no surprise that Rose Huntington-Whitely chose to wear it on her Transformers 3 press tour.

Hervé Léger

A brand after my own heart. The thing is, I never like the dresses when seen on the runways, they need to be on a curvy woman. I don’t mean “curvy” in the sense of the media’s definition of a “real” or “average” woman — because what is that, anyway? There’s no such thing as “average” unless we’ve suddenly all been degraded into some statistic — but “curvy” as in a woman with an hourglass figure as to show the true benefits of a bandage dress.

Isabel Marant

My alter ego is quite bohemian. She enjoys the fringed boots, perhaps even too much. But paired with long-sleeved minis scrunched haphazardly to a 3/4-length? I die a little. I’ll always have a soft spot for anything native or boho-inspired (American history in grade school delved lightly into American Native stories and culture and I’ve been enamored since. Plus, put me within vicinity of one of those shaggy coats and I might just curl up and disappear in one of them and never want to wake up…

But seriously, I love that you understand and accept my penchant for 3/4-sleeves and minis paired with knee-high boots. No one else does to your extent.

MARTIN GRANT

I think Martin Grant deserves his own little post. Not that I’d ever be able to do him justice with my writing, but his clothing exudes the very essence of the French woman – elegance, timelessness all with a touch of sex appeal. Images speak louder than words; I’ll leave my review at that.